


cut through me and straight to you

by violetmoreviolent



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Apprentice Arc, Bruce Wayne Tries, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Codependency, Dick Grayson-centric, Hurt Dick Grayson, Injury, Intimacy, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Muteness, Permanent Injury, Scarification, Sign Language, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28097343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetmoreviolent/pseuds/violetmoreviolent
Summary: The cut that takes Dick's voice breaks Slade.Dick is there to pick up the pieces and glue them back together however he pleases.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Comments: 27
Kudos: 203





	cut through me and straight to you

**Author's Note:**

> just a small warning but Bruce does something pretty fucking rude later on. also Dick takes out his frustration by hitting and that's not okay but he's angry and frustrated (also they deserve it). also I kept Dick's age kind of ambiguous but i'd say he'd be around seventeen-nineteen during the beginning of the apprenticeship and then age from there.
> 
> also I wrote this in under 24 hours

The cut along his throat  _ hurts. _

Slade looks scared. Dick isn't used to Slade looking scared. His one eye is open, his jaw slack and mouth parted in shocked surprise. He's taken off his mask so that he can look, _really_ look at Dick.

Dick doesn't bother to look around, knows they are alone, knows that the lucky bastard who sliced his throat open isn't feeling so lucky right now.

Slade's hands hover, frozen, but if Dick is going to live he needs help. Needs help  _ now. _ A choked out sound propels Slade into moving, his hands stemming the blood flow with Slade’s own mask.

Slade looks scared, looks at Dick like he's shattering on the inside.

Dick reaches a hand up, and tries to smile even as he gurgles on blood.

_ It's okay _ , he mouths barely tasting the copper on his tongue. He doesn't know why he comforts this monster who's face rests under his fingertips. This man who has imposed his will over Dick just because he wanted to, because he could.

Some part of Dick is vindictive but more of him is sad because Slade is broken. Dick is breaking him.

Dick secretly thinks Slade could be good. Thinks he could do good things. And why not? Slade takes pride in accomplishments, and joy from adrenaline but doesn't particularly relish in killing or sadism.

From what Dick knows, and Dick knows more than Lieutenant Colonel Slade thinks he does, Slade was made into a weapon and no one has ever knocked him off his path. Not military life, not Adeline and not his kids.

_ I will _ , Dick thinks deliriously as if he's casting a spell,  _ let this scar tear through me and straight into you. _

_ “Be good,”  _ Dick mouths as his world fades to black.

* * *

When Dick wakes, Slade is sitting in a chair.

"... I have no use for a broken apprentice," he begins as if he hasn't been sitting for who knows how long.

Slade is attempting to discard him.

Dick laughs. The noise is like a broken squeaker and Slade looks at him, hollow.

_ "Lies,"  _ Dick signs, cutting his hand across his chin. Then he taps on his open palm and points to himself, " _ Owe me." _

Slade blinks, narrows his eyes, "Owe you?"

_ "Your fault,"  _ a thumbs up across the back of his other hand, directing the blame to Slade,  _ "Owe me." _

Slade opens his mouth to argue but slumps back into the impersonal medical chair of whatever hospital they were at, "What do you want, kid?"

Dick points at Slade. Then he reaches his hands out. When Slade only looks at him, trying to figure out Dick’s game, Dick sighs impatiently - a hoarse sound wrought with pain - and gestures for Slade to come near.

Slade slowly creeps closer, like a scared animal ready to be struck. Dick caresses Slade's face.

Slade's eye stares beseechingly into Dick's.

_ “Be good,”  _ Dick mouths.

Slade closes his eye but doesn't pull away.

"I can't be  _ good _ , kid. I can't be a cape."

Dick pulls a hand back and slaps Slade. Slade takes it, opens his eye but doesn't pull back.

_ “Blame,”  _ he signs again and again, “ _ You're fault.” _

Slade nods, "Then you should stay away. Go home to your Titans or your Bat."

He wants to say redress but doesn't know how so Dick signs again, " _ Owe me." _

"I know I owe you, kid!" Slade yells, standing, body taught as he tries to maintain his control, "You don’t even understand what’s been taken from you,  _ but I do!  _ What do you  _ want?!" _

Dick points at Slade and mouths, “ _ Atonement.” _

* * *

There is an older boy who sits in on Mr. Wilson's classes. He doesn't participate, usually sits with an open book on his lap or scrolls on his phone. He's cute, but always has bandages wrapped around his throat and never talks. Despite that, the boy is always relaxed and never seems skittish and never ever jolts at loud sounds.

"With bandages like that we can't throw out abuse," Maria whispers to Cathy as they take a breather from Mr. Wilson's drills.

This week he is teaching them how to disarm a mugger.

Cathy shrugs, "Yeah but look how relaxed he is. I bet Mr. Wilson was a neighbor who overheard and I bet he walked right in, smacked down boyo's abusive father and said 'son, you live with me now'."

Maria snorts and rolls her eyes, "Cathy I'm serious. Look, I know Mr. Wilson does good things here for us Blüdhaven dirt but... Look it's just weird you know. Kid doesn't even talk to anyone."

"Maria, we don't know the whole story," Cathy chides, "And I don't want a CPS call to cause trouble for Mr. Wilson. I mean the kid might be too old for CPS anyway."

Maria gives a frustrated grunt, " _ Exactly,  _ we don't know the whole story! And CPS or no, I think if it saves the kid then fuck Mr. Wilson!"

"What are you pretty ladies talking about?" Daniels asks, interrupting Maria and Cathy's discussion.

The pair of women shift and meet eyes. 

Most of the people in Mr. Wilson's class are there to learn self-defense. The rest were like Daniels who is currently using his bulk to tower over them.

"I -," Maria stutters out, heart racing. 

Daniels leers, "Maybe you'd like to spar with me next? Hm?"

"Daniels, if you're looking for a sparring partner I have just the one for you," Mr. Wilson calls.

Maria sucks in a breath as Daniels veers away, "Do I finally get to challenge the big man himself, Mr. Wilson?"

"You can fight God when you're dead," Mr. Wilson retorts, "No, you'll fight Gray over here."

Gray? Maria and Cathy crane their necks to see the boy of the hour himself standing up to spar.

"The kid? You can't be serious, Mr. Wilson."

"Humor me. After you beat him I'll take you on myself."

Daniels shrugs. He and the kid square off. Daniels hesitates only a moment before lunging at the kid. 

Maria blinks and almost misses it. In a smooth motion the kid is grabbing Daniels, throwing him off balance, swinging around so he's on Daniels back as the man falls, his arms wrapped around Daniels in a chokehold. Daniels hits the pads with a thud.

"Perfect," Mr. Wilson says, "Looks like you have more work to do, Daniels. Release, kid."

The newly dubbed Gray does, springing away fluidly.

"Good job," Mr. Wilson tells Gray.

Gray smiles brightly and his hands are moving, forming words Maria can’t understand.

_ Oh,  _ Maria thinks as Mr. Wilson ruffles the kid's hair and the kid laughs, wheezy little sounds,  _ Guess I was worried ‘bout nothin’.” _

* * *

"Shit, shit, shit! The shadows are here!"

Slade swoops down, dressed all in black. Usually, their little 'missions' involved stealth.

But not this one.

Slade relishes missions like this. He pulls out one of the swords strapped to his back when he is usually relegated to a bo staff. Around Slade is chaos just like they want. 

Slade attacks, leaving goons a little sliced, a little unconscious but alive - per Dick's standards.

_ "They're low level. Civilians caught on the wrong side of the law. Most can be scared off or helped through social programs." Dick had typed out on the notes app on his phone. _

_ "And the ones who can't?" Slade asked. _

_ "I believe most people can be redeemed," Dick had given a nonanswer, "Like you." _

_ "I'm not redeemed, kid," Slade had said, "Just under new employment." _

_ Dick had leveled him a stare, crossing his arms. _

_ "The ones who can't?" Slade had pressed through the tense moment to ask. _

_ "... Do what you must. But I decide." _

This mark is a human trafficker. Slade understands easily why Dick is allowing Slade this kill. If the bastard does go to jail he'll be thrown in with the general prison population and severely maimed if not killed. More likely he'll have the guard in his pocket  _ if  _ he doesn't buy out the court and walk free.

This man won't change unless it's from alive to dead.

Dick is on the ground distracting the mob. Slade slices the man's throat open. Dick will wince when he reads the news report, will gingerly cup his own throat and stare accusingly at Slade. But he won’t speak. Will never truly speak again. Won’t sign, won’t ask why, won’t text it out or write it down.

This is Slade's own punishment, both for himself as he sees his son, sees  _ Dick _ with the same injury, and for Dick, for what the boy has made him. They both must have their own burdens to bear.

_ "Done?'  _ Dick signs when Slade meets him out on the rooftop.

"Yeah, kid. It's done."

* * *

Washed of blood, grime and sweat, Slade reclines in his bed. The light from his bedside lamp shines as he waits. The door opens. Dick stands at the threshold, eyes heavy with emotion and exhaustion.

"C'mere, kid," Slade says.

Dick does, crawling onto the bed to straddle Slade, Slade who is bare, except his briefs.

_ Look at me,  _ Dick doesn’t say, doesn’t sign but his eyes communicate all the same,  _ look at what you made me. Look at the blood you’ve covered my hands in. _

"You've changed me, too," Slade admits, voice raw.

Dick touches his face, holding it in his hands like Deathstroke the Terminator is something breakable. Slade surges up, wraps his large arms around Dick's slighter frame, his head tucked in the crook of Dick's shoulder and one hand tangling in Dick’s dark hair. Dick’s breath hitches, brushing hot against Slade’s skin. Slade shudders as Dick embraces him back, one hand slowly tracing up and down his spine.

Dick understands, Slade thinks, he understands that Slade is a weapon. That he needs to be wielded, that he doesn’t care about moral alignments, only the most efficient way to cut down the person he’s pointed at. Slade’s not good but he’s also not  _ bad,  _ the same way a knife’s potential is not in the blade but in the hands that hold it. Dick understands because he has been pushed and used as a weapon but bucks it, defies it, defies Batman, deifies Slade and now there is no one who knows how to handle human weapons as well as Dick Grayson.

Slade hasn't had someone who understands, who  _ really, really  _ understands in a long time.

* * *

“I want to discuss a new potential enemy,” Batman says.

Wonder Woman sits at attention. Even if Flash and Green Lantern slack, she believes in the importance of such meetings - and of the ‘trio’ leading them to be active participants.

“Or, ally,” Superman interjects, beaming brightly, “From what I’ve heard.”

Wonder Woman smiles, as Batman grunts. She knows this is a bit, even if Superman doesn’t know that the only reason Batman shares information with him before the others is so that they can play good cop, bad cop.

Batman swipes something on his screen and the holoprojector in the center of the table pulls up a blurry security loop of a large figure dressed in black racing down a pier. Batman swipes again and the picture changes to a blurry still of two figures - the big one and a second lither one.

“They’re called the ‘Shadows’, dubbed so by the criminals they brutalize,” Batman says.

“Well they’re not the only one who brutalizes criminals,” Green Arrow quips.

Batman frowns, “More worrying is their body count. All deaths have a signature cut across the throat. It’s professional and brutal.”

Batman swipes to show a list of the victims and their associated crimes: two serial killers, a few human traffickers, child molesters.

Wonder Woman and Aquaman meet eyes. To them, these are just deaths. Justice served. Wonder Woman glances at Green Arrow who’s expression holds no remorse for the dead being displayed.

“They’re riding a thin line,” Batman states, “And I think it's time the Justice League step in to evaluate where they fall on the line.”

“I think they can be curved into doing the right thing,” Superman states, “Although the killings are brutal they are consistent. The duo has a code of some kind. Goons are left unconscious for police.”

“Blüdhaven police does not currently acknowledge these ‘Shadows’ but have made a public statement that vigilantism is unwelcomed. It’s worth noting Blüdhaven police are more corrupt than Gotham’s before the current commissioner came into power, so their acceptance of the two will likely have no effect on the duo.”

“So those men would have walked free,” Wonder Woman points out.

“Most likely,” Batman states.

“Then your justice system has failed and they’ve taken the law into their own hands,” Wonder Woman states, “I see no wrong with this.”

“It is not our right to dictate the law,” Batman retorts.

“Someone must,” Aquaman says, siding with Wonder Woman.

“According to polls, Blüdhaven streets have never felt so safe to its citizens!” Superman states nervously, attempting to defuse the situation.

“I’m not condemning them,” Batman says, the ‘yet’ unspoken, “However, I think they need to be monitored and potentially reeled in.”

“Could always invite them into our little club,” Green Lantern states, “Worked for Arrow.”

“Hey!”

“We’ll see,” Batman says, “The most disturbing piece of news is this.”

He pulls up a CCTV image of a man with a baseball cap pulled low.

“What are we looking at, Bats?” The Flash asks.

“This is an image of a man known as Sam Wilson. He runs a self-defense studio. Due to a 42% facial match and the nature of the deaths, I believe that the man moonlighting as one of the ‘Shadows’ is Slade Wilson - Deathstroke the Terminator.”

The League sits up straight.

“Deathstroke?!” Green Arrow exclaims, “What the hell is he doing playing vigilante?”

“I don’t know,” Batman says, “That’s what makes this whole situation dangerous. My current theory, due to the nature of his victims' deaths, is that he has taken his son - Joseph Wilson - under his wing and is slowly pushing him into the mercenary life. Starting with ‘justified’ deaths -,”

“- and ending with contract killings,” Green Arrow finishes, “Shit, kid deserves better.”

“I’d like to pull some resources into locating Adeline Kane and confirming if she is alive or dead, Flash, I’ll send you some leads. Remember: reconnaissance only.”

“Got it, Bats,” Flash salutes. 

“In the meantime, I’ll be keeping an ear to the ground for any more news of these ‘Shadows’. Once we get word on Kane’s status we can proceed with confronting them.”

* * *

“The Bat’s been sniffing his nose around,” Slade tells Dick as he takes apart his gun and puts it back together.

Dick nods, not even looking away from the show he’s watching to sign, “ _ I know. _ ”

Slade snorts, “Are you ready for this whole operation to fall on your head?”

“ _ Our heads,” _ Dick finally turns to look at him as he signs, circling his cupped hand across his chest, “ _ Us. _ ”

Slade sighs, dragging a hand across his face, “Sure kid. Us.”

Dick smiles, all teeth and unbothered. He stops Slade’s assembling and disassembling by covering the larger hands with his own, points to the television and curls into Slade’s side, keeping a grip on his hands throughout the rest of the episode.

* * *

“Adeline Kane is alive but here’s the thing, Joseph? With her the whole time. Goes to some fancy academy. I looked up his records, kid hasn’t missed a day. According to his teachers, he’s a model student and a ‘gentle soul’.”

* * *

They get the drop on Slade one month shy of Dick and Slade's one year anniversary of their little  _ arrangement,  _ of Dick’s throat being sliced open like a piece of meat being butchered. It's Batman and Arrow who land on the rooftop but Slade has no doubt others are around.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” Slade asks, keeping his body language relaxed.

Batman looks at Green Arrow who nods, “It’s him alright. That’s Deathstroke.”

“Oh, I don’t go by that anymore,” Slade says plainly. 

He turns, calling over his shoulder, "Follow me."

Slade leads them to an unassuming apartment building. There's a side window in an alleyway blocked from street view. They enter. The inside is as normal and unassuming as the out. A leather couch, scuffed up coffee table and a television on an entertainment console. On the coffee table, teacups are arranged - four each with little bags - on a tray along with a dish for cream, a dispenser with milk and last but not least a sugar bowl.

"Welcome," Slade says, peeling off his mask and unloading his weapons, stripping his bandoliers off and laying them behind the couch.

In the background, a tea kettle whistles and then the sound of the stove clicking off.

"What the hell is this, Slade?" Green Arrow demands.

"Tea," Slade says, “He insisted.”

Light footsteps sound and the two Leaguer's turn to watch Dick Grayson walk in, carrying a tea kettle.

"Holy shit, Dick is that you?! Green Arrow exclaims.

Slade watches Batman freeze as the great detective tries to parse out what is happening. Dick looks at them and smiles but merely walks over, pours the tea and pads back into the kitchen. Slade kicks off his combat boots.

Slade, now only in his form-fitting black top and pants, reclines, "He'll be back in a moment."

That seems to kick the Bat into action as he lunges around the coffee table to deliver a solid punch to Slade's face.

Slade tastes copper as his lip splits then heals. The Bat pulls back to strike again before he's stopped, hands pulling back on the arm, Dick making distressed, choked sounds.

"Dick?" The Bat's anger cools into something else as he looks at his lost son, "I've been looking for you, I didn't know what had happened..."

Dick opens his mouth but nothing comes out, just lips warbling over words unable to be said.

“What’s wrong? Dick?” Batman’s worry floods his voice, making the Bat vulnerable in a way Slade’s never heard before and he reaches out to grab Dick’s arms.

By Dick’s sad but steely expression the broken tenderness he’s seeing is nothing new. Dick must have a talent, Slade muses, with drawing out all the broken bits of a person.

Dick tries to pull away, Slade assumes to sign, but Batman’s grip is firm. He shakes Dick, “Why aren’t you saying anything?! All this time I just wanted to hear that you were okay!”

“If you want him to talk to you, you have to let him go,” Slade informs him, taking out his teabag and laying it on the teacup’s plate. If the others don’t the tea will be too strong, Slade notes.

Batman doesn’t loosen his grip.

Dick opens his mouth, “ _ Ssstah-stah-stoppp...” _

Slade winces, putting his cup down at the crude and painful hissing that is all that’s left of Dick Grayson’s voice.

“What?” Batman finally releases.

Dick’s hands start moving, “ _ Hey, B. I missed you. _ ”

Batman grits his teeth and snarls out, “ _ He  _ did this to you!”

“ _ Yes,”  _ he signs and then the sign of Slade’s nightmares, that thumbs up fist pushing across the back of an open palm, “ _ Blame. Owe me.” _

“What’s he saying?” Green Arrow tentatively asks, “Is he saying why Deathstroke is here?”

Batman doesn’t look away from Dick as the boy reaches up to pull down his high collar revealing the white bandages around his neck. He starts unwinding them, “He said he can’t speak because of Deathstroke. That Deathstroke owes him.”

Green Arrow narrows his eyes and looks at Slade. Slade stares back.

The bandages fall and Slade is standing. He stares at the white scar cutting across Dick’s tan skin.

“Did you do this?” Batman grunts out to Slade, his eyes glued to the scar.

Batman reaches a handout, tilting Dick’s head back to trace the scar with his gloved thumb. He pulls back only to rip his gauntlets off so he can touch the skin with bare hands.

Dick shivers.

“Careful,” Slade whispers, “It’s sensitive.”

“Did you  _ do  _ this?” 

“Yes.”

_ “Lies,”  _ Dick signs, hand cutting across his chin like the cut across his neck.

Dick grabs the Bat’s bare hands, taking them into his so he can lower them. With a squeeze he releases them so that he can sign, “ _ Trust me.” _

“You’ve been gone for almost two years,” Batman breathes out, “And now you’re with Deathstroke? I know about the ‘Shadows’. Do you know about the deaths, Dick? Do you know he’s killing people?”

Dick stares him down and nods. He signs, “ _ I decide.” _

“You?” Batman gapes at him, _ “You, what?!  _ Did you decide to abandon your  _ family  _ to go play  _ executioner?!” _

Dick wiggles a finger across his forehead, “ _ Complicated. Trust me. Listen.” _

Batman sneers and grabs Dick’s hands, “No, Dick. _You listen!_ I’m bringing you home and _then_ we can discuss this while Wilson is in _jail.”_

Dick struggles to free his hands, head shaking and letting little breathy shrieks out as Batman keeps hold.

Slade tenses, ready to intervene. Anger flares hot and intense as he rages inside, “You’re  _ crossing a line Bat.” _

_ “Batman,”  _ Green Arrow hisses, “What the hell are you doing?”

That seems to bring Batman back to himself, if just a bit, enough at least for him to loosen his hold and for Dick to pull free. 

_ Slap. _

Dick strikes, open-handed across Batman’s face, lip pulled back into a sneer.

_ “Never again,”  _ he signs,  _ “Don’t you dare silence me.” _

“I - Dick, I’m sorry,” the Bat’s shoulders hunch in shame, “Please, just come home. Jay and the new Robin would be so happy to see you... and Agent A...” 

Dick’s face is still red and scrunched with anger but something softens in his eyes.

_ Ah,  _ Slade thinks,  _ this is where I’m discarded. _

“Go home, kid,” Slade says.

Dick turns fully to Slade,  _ “Stay home. Stay.” _

“Go  _ home,  _ kid,” Slade repeats, wearily.

Dick marches right up to Slade. Dick can’t see it because his back is turned on them but Slade watches the two supes tense at their proximity.

Dick reaches up, caressing Slade’s face. Then he grips Slade’s chin and shakes before pulling back to sign, “ _ You. You stay here. Stay home. I come home. Come here.” _

His brow is tense and serious and Slade sighs, rubs a hand over his face, “Okay, kid. I’ll be here.”

“ _ Promise?” _

“I promise,” Slade says, voice raw.

Dick smiles triumphantly, reaching out again, this time to wrap a hand around Slade’s wrist to squeeze hard enough to bruise. The bruises heal but Slade doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the feeling of it, like a promise sunk into his skin, like the physical evidence of a magic spell.

_ “Not forgiven,”  _ Dick mouths as he pulls away, _ “atone.” _

Then Dick peels off his shirt to reveal he’s wearing his ‘Shadow’ outfit underneath. Where Slade’s is form-fitting, Dick’s is skintight, and when he peels the basketball shorts off, fully revealing his lithe figure and all the beauty that is Dick Grayson to the world with only a suit between, Slade  _ burns _ .

The monstrous part in him wants to destroy Dick, to take him apart piece by piece until he’s as empty and beastly as Slade. The man in him wants Dick to be right. To prove that he is capable of redemption, that Dick can be the light to shine the darkness in him away. 

Both want Dick to stay.

Dick pulls his own mask and weapons from under the couch.

_ Stay, _ he signs one more time before following as Batman leaves to take him back to Gotham City.

Green Arrow brings up the rear, pausing at the window, “I don’t know what’s going to happen but forget running. I don’t know what the hell you’ve done to that kid but the Justice League will fall on your head at Dick’s word,” he squints at Slade, “You’ve changed him and I think he’s changed you too. Pray to God the League likes what it sees or I swear to you Slade, I’ll make sure Wonder Woman gets here first.”

Then Slade is alone. He sits, looks at the three untouched teas and picks up his own. He was wrong all those nights ago, he realizes as he tastes the unsweetened Earl Grey tea. Dick isn’t the best at handling human weapons. 

Dick is the best at holding them between his hands and reminding them,  _ you’re human,  _ and looking at them so damn earnestly that they believe it’s true.

That Slade believes it’s true.

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh I changed my username and idk why but I've been banging out words ever since. hope you like this.
> 
> Don't let the POV changes and time skips confuse you, Dick is definitely processing but for Slade this is an emotional nightmare where on some level Dick always knew something like this would happen and he's relishing the control he now has over Slade and using him as an emotional crutch - as a punching bag or a source of comfort or someone just to torment. Also Dick Grayson's inevitable cheer and scheming keeps him going.


End file.
